You're a Good Boy, Oedipus
by Morbid Romantic
Summary: Setsuka's POV. Her insight on Seishirou as he grows up.


Title: You're a Good Boy, Oedipus Rating: R Warnings: Um... incest. What else would you expect from an R rated fanfic featuring Seishirou and his mother?  
Characters: Seishirou & Setsuka.. with a little bit of Subaru splashed in for flavor.  
Description: With a name like Oedipus in the title, do you NEED to ask?  
Notes: Setsuka's POV.

-

They took him from me when he was just a few weeks old. From the moment he was born, my Seishirou, I knew that soon they would come to take him away from me.

His hair was a perfect black, not even the slightest hint of another color in its hightlights. My Seishirou had hair so black that it shone blue in the sunlight. Skin as soft as silk; a light brown color. He was perfect. My son. My Seishirou.

Never once did he cry. It was a game that I delighted in playing, guessing when my Seishirou was hungry, or uncomfortable, or wanted to be held. Did he ever want to be held? Were my arms the comforting embrace of a mother to him, or was he indifferent to them even as a baby? 

Oh, I didn't care! I loved him so much! I never tired of pressing my lips to his soft, warm cheeks for kisses. His hands would come up and touch the my hair, pet my own face with the curiosity unique to babies. My Seishirou, so curious, so yeilding and alive! I watched him for hours, his amber eyes returning the stare, pencil thin eyelashes fluttering as he slowly blinked.

Yes, my world was Seishirou. My Seishirou.

"It's his destiny, Setsuka," they told me as they took him from the cradle that I had made for him with my arms. I wanted to reach forward, snatch him from their intruding grasp, and claim him back; he was mine.

But, I knew too well what fate had in store for my boy, and I was willing to let him go; I was willing to part with my Seishirou.

One last time, I pushed at his head of black hair. Baby soft, I wondered what it would feel like when he got older; became a man. With an innocent smile, I placed a delicate kiss on the back curve of his neck. Flaring for a moment, the white pentacle blazed as if it were made of pure light before fading away and leaving only the faintest sheen. 

Yes, they may take him, but he belonged to me.

-

When Seishirou was one years old, I began to dream about him. They hadn't let me see him since the day that they had taken him from me, though I had known this was the way that it would be. I missed him. I missed my Seishirou. I wished that I could kiss his cheeks once more as I used to, and steal the soft warmth from their tender, living surface.

I loved the dreams that I had with Seishirou in them. I loved waking in the mornings fresh from the nocturnal visions of my beautiful son. How I wished to hold him again! How it tormented me that I could not put my arms around my Seishirou. 

Does he remember me? I hope so. I want my Seishirou to think of me always, as I think of him.

-

When my Seishirou was two, and I had not seen him in nearly that amount of time, my dreams of him began to change.

Shadows from the background of the dreamscape shielded him from my view; looming figures. I couldn't make out a face, only a form in what seemed to be a long jacket that blew ominously. A dark puddle formed from the black blood dripping from the man's arm, and I could smell sakura- such a beautiful smell- and cigarettes. He was tall this man, and bristling with danger. It hung in the air like electricity, prickling my skin.

Oh, it was simply too exciting!

My baby, my Seishirou, was shrouded in this man's darkness. If only I could have told my Seishirou how beautiful he looked half masked in the overwhelming blackness.

A whisper began to caress my ears, and I had to strain to listen to it.

iBut today, I will let you go./i

Such a strong voice; deep and musical. I felt it through every inch of me, and shivered.

Sakura began to fall like rain and blanket the ground. Soon, there was nothing but Sakura as far as the eyes could see, broken only by the black splitting the horizon that form the sky above.

Something wet and warm hit my face, and I turned my face upwards towards the inky sky with closed eyes.

It fell again and again, and something begin to slide down my cheek to my neck. Wet. Yes. And warm. Blood. When I opened my eyes, all that I could see in the sky were pelting drops of blood.

I felt like a girl again, and I laughed with outstretched arms that allowed the blood to cover me thouroughly.

My Seishirou, whenever I see blood, I think of you!

The shadow of that man began to grow; the ominous, dangerou form in the flowing jacket increased in size until it consumed the world like a festering wound. I turned towards it, wanting to share the blood with it, knowing it was hungry for the it. It caressed me like silk, like a second skin that teemed with the absence of life. This blood signaled the loss of life, after all, and it was all mine now.

But when I turned, for the first time in my life, I felt real fear.

What wonderful pleasure it was the way my heart lept and started to race! So this was what those men and women felt before my arm discended and robbed them of their next breath. How much they must love me for bringing to them such pleasure; so much fear!

The eyes that caught mine were mismatched; one a living circle of amber - oh, such a lovely color- and the other a depthless murky grey. Only one was a real eye, but they were both lifeless.

I couldn't speak, and I couldn't move. I could only stare with wide, fascinated eyes. Was that my breathing that was blowing so loud? Heat. My body was spreading with heat. The hunter, the hunted. I was the hunted, and my hunter was pure killing perfection. I had never seen eyes so dead, and a smile so empty.

Do you promise pain?

iYes. I promise nothing but pain. Forever./i

Oh, I love you.

iYes./i

Do you love me?

iI love nothing./i

I laughed aloud, the sound bouncing from the walls of my dream.

My Seishirou.

iYes./i

-

Soon, the dreams began to change again. There was another figure; a white figure that somehow still seemed a shadow even though it shone vibrantly against the backdrop of blood and black. The sakura seemed to like it, for the branches outstretched to caress it from the shadows. And the white man seemed to like this himself; he stood still, allowing the loving embrace of the coiling, stroking tendrils.

We both love death, but death loves only you, I called out to the new figure, and he seemed to nod.

I had never before given death a real, tangible form. But I now knew that the shadow man with the mismatched eyes was death. And death was my Seishirou. How cruel dreams were that I could not wrap my arms around his large, firm body and rain kisses on him again!

How jealous I was that this young man should steal death from me. My Seishirou, show me that you love me most of all, or accept my unwavering love for you. I'll give you anything! My blood, my life. From the moment you were born, it belonged to you.

In any case, I did not like the young man in white.

-

When my Seishirou was five years old, I missed him too much to sate my need of him through the fragments of dreams. I needed something real. I needed to see my son.

Perhaps my clan had underestimated the depth of of powers, none of them ever knowing what it meant to be the Sakurazukamori, or they made it intentionally easy for me to locate him. I was able to find him without much work on my part. All I had to do was call upon the mark that I had placed on the back of his neck when he was only a baby. There were no barriers in place to counter my powers. 

Yes, no wards were in place to keep me away, though I could feel the magical protection radiating in the aura around that of my Seishirou's presence. He was well protected against the enemies of the clan. Surely the 12th head of the Sumeragi would love the chance to take out my Seishirou before he grew to become the next Sakurazukamori, and her next enemy.

But I had no time to think on that! My mind was consumed with the thought that soon I would be near my Seishirou, near enough to see him again, and perhaps to touch him. I wanted that most of all. My arms and lips ached for him.

Ueno Park was but a walk away; I always stayed close to where my Sakura tree stayed rooted to the ground as an innocent feature of the lavish landscape for tourists and natives alike to enjoy. They seemed to really like the dark pink leaves that flittered through the breeze to rain down on them. If only the Sakura tree could consume them all, it would never be hungry again.

Drawn to the center of magic, I found him kneeling near to the Sakura tree.

Did he know that the tree was his destiny, and that it belonged to his mother? Did the tree itself draw my Seishirou to it, knowing that in just a few years, my Seishirou would be the guardian?

His back was facing me, and he looked so fragile with his small body leaning forward on his knees as he played with something out of sight. Children are so beautiful in their innocence. I could scarecly believe that any child of mine could possess such innocence; surely he had to have been born corrupt. That was the nature of the beast within us, after all. It bred and grew with each newly born testament of our eternal power and evil.

No, there was no innocence in my Seishirou.

I approached silently, my skills as Sakurazukamori allowing me to tred silently over the lush, well kept grass of Ueno. 

"Hello," I heard Seishirou say in a soft, childish voice. But I shivered. Never had I heard something so soft and sweet sound so cold.

Dead. The walking dead; with the task to carry others down to hell with him.

Oh, my Seishirou was utter perfection.

"Hello," I said softly, kneeling down beside him, allowing the long folds of my kimono to settle around me. "Seishirou."

"Yes," he replied, his attetion never wavering from the object in his hands.

They were cupped together to make a circular cage, with just a little space left between where his thumbs would come together for him to stare into it.

"What is that in your hand?" I asked him, wishing to reach out and begin stroking his hair. With a quick flutter of my fingers, I stretched them over the last remaining inches to wind inside of his thick black hair. He didn't startle, nor did he aknowledge my touch.

"A butterfly," he told me in the same whisper soft, lifeless tone that I was beginning to fall in love with.

"Are you going to kill it?" I was moving close to him, pressing our sides together, wishing to smother him in my hair and dress. Yes, make us one. Let me consume him.

"I don't know," he replied, closing the hole in his hand and simply holding them shut.

"How can you not know?" I gave a soft laugh, confused at his hesitation. How could he not want to kill the small, useless, helpless butterly.

"Because it's beautiful," he breathed.

"Do you like beautiful things, Seishirou?"

"Yes."

"You are beautiful," I told him, leaning over to whisper it into his ear.

"Am I," he mused, unaffected.

"Don't you think so?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know who I am, Seishirou?"

Finally, he turned to look at me with cold, steady amber eyes.

"A butterfly."

"Are you going to trap and cage me, too, Seishirou?" I asked, delighted.

"I wonder."

"Am I beautiful to you, Seishirou?"

"Yes."

"I love you, Seishirou."

He didn't respond, just stared at me. Yes, he had the face of an angel, though the aura around him pricked with darkness.

"Do you love me?"

"I love nothing," he told me in a simple tone.

"But you love that butterfly," I pointed out, though it was more of an iquiry.

"I don't love this butterfly," he corrected.

"But you love its beauty, don't you?"

"I wonder," he replied, turning his gaze back to his flesh cage. 

The entire time that we spoke, nothing had flickered across his face. I wasn't sure whether is was apathy or boredom... or perhaps a bit of both. He gave a shrug, and in a slow movement, crushed his hands together. When he pulled them apart, I watched the dead butterfly float to the ground infront of us. A happy laugh erupted from my chest, and I threw my arms around my little boy to encage him as he had trapped the insect.

"Yes, everything is so much more beautiful when it dies," I heard him whisper to me.

-

I had been wrong, of course. The clan hadn't allowed me through my Seishirou's protective barrier; they had tried to reinforce him against me. My Seishirou had let me through when he felt me near.

The clan saw an end to that and put up one so powerful that not even I could break it. Seishirou, still so young, didn't possess the power to do it either.

It made me angry. It made me livid. My Seishirou, how could they keep him from me? I felt like were being torn into pieces every second that I was away from him. Sometimes I felt him near, a fleeting sensation that ran to the very core of me and made me perk my senses in hopes of seeing even a passing hint of his fine, black hair.

But no.

I was without him. Alone. 

It went on this way for years; countless years that I lost track of.

By the time my Seishirou was 15, I was sent a message. It was from the clan. I peeled from the thick ricepaper the wax seal of the Sakurazuka: an S wrapped in a penticle. From my hand onto the paper appeared a stain of blood, quick to soak in and dry to a dark red. 

A gasp escaped my lips when I read the simple, eloquently written words.

They were sending my Seishirou to see me.

Oh, I was ecstatic! Jumping to my feet like a girl, I cluched the letter and ran out into the garden to read it again under the sunlight. They promised to send him to me in two days. Two days! How would I survive so long with this excitement slithernig through my veins? Surely I would go mad with anticipation before then. I could feel even the tree swell at the news.

Those were the two most agonizingly slow days of my life.

When the day came, I fought to compose myself. I wanted to rush to the front and wait for him, even if the sky started to fall down around me. But, there was a strange calm and peace in me, a stoic stance I knew was necessary. Alone, I sat, sliding my fingers over a camiella flower that I had picked that morning. The edges were already turning brown, and I enjoyed the decaying death sliding between my fingers.

I wondered if my Seishirou would love it as much as I did. 


End file.
